It wasn’t the voice of her Master, but one of his Guardians. Probably Ghan. The eldest of the three Guardians.

The one who had carried her to the Master so many years ago. Wet with blood and rain.

He’d carried her into this new life. And she’d walked away from it.

“Please, Ghan. I had to see.”

“You didn’t trust The Master.”

Amalia’s head hung lower. “I didn’t want to believe him.”

“Humans are incapable of true belief.”

“Then why did you take me to The Master at all?”

A wheezing sigh. “Too much blood. Didn’t know you were a human.”

Amalia lifted her gaze to Ghan. A hulking form. Armored and carrying a sword. His yellow not the soft eyes that had looked on her before. Now they were aglow with light.

Ghan was prepared to kill her.

And, only a few paces away Rihl approached. His sword bare. His eyes aglow.

“I need The Master’s help, Ghan.”

“And suddenly the human is not the source of all knowledge. All wisdom.”

Amalia’s expression tightened. Her fingers clenched down on the leaves and earth beneath them. “I need The Master’s help.”

“The Master gave me the honor of killing you.”

Amalia took a steadying breath. Searching Ghan for the friend she’d once known. For the compassion he’d showed her a thousand times over. “They’re dying. The humans. My kin. My clan. All of them. It’s a sickness like no other we’ve ever known.”

Ghan shifted his grip on his sword. His eyes still bright. “Humans are faithless. Death becomes them.”